


Homing

by SylvanWitch



Series: Ain't No Mountain High Enough [13]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alien Virus, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Sick Pet, Superhusbands (Marvel), pet death (implied)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 09:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15140612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvanWitch/pseuds/SylvanWitch
Summary: A routine mission to hunt down animals infected with an alien virus turns personal when Steve rescues a homeless kid and his kitten.  In finding a home for the boy, Steve discovers something about his own idea of home (Tony helps).





	Homing

**Author's Note:**

> I imagine this as a postscript in the "Ain't No Mountain..." series. You don't have to have read that to understand this.

“I’ll fight you!”

 

The boy was small, underweight, and dirty, his balled fists grimed with street filth, his tee-shirt holey and smeared with things Steve didn’t care to identify.

 

He was standing over a mewling kitten of indeterminate gender and age whose moon-blind eyes glowed an unfortunate and unnatural yellow.  It was definitely infected.

 

Steve crouched down to the boy’s level, keeping a respectful six feet between them.  The boy’s feet shifted, but he didn’t back away.  This kid was fierce.

 

“I’m sorry, partner, but the kitten is sick, and I need to take it to have it checked over.”

 

Steve didn’t like lying, especially to children, but he couldn’t very well explain that the kitten was destined for Level Four lab study and then incineration.

 

“You can’t have her.  She’s _mine_.”  There was an admirable certainty in the boy’s voice at war with a youthful tremor, and it made Steve infinitely sad.  He didn’t want to do this.

 

“What’s her name?” 

 

The boy’s face softened as he risked a quick look at the kitten.

 

“Midnight.”

 

“That’s a good name.”

 

The boy nodded uncertainly.  He didn’t trust Steve and wasn’t falling for any of his soft sell.  That much was apparent by the way he settled a little more firmly into his defensive stance.  His hands hadn’t once unfurled.

 

“Where’d you find her?”  This might be intel the docs would need to figure out the progress of the alien virus.  The kitten was the fourth infected animal Steve had discovered, and he wasn’t the only one hunting for them.

 

The boy shrugged.  He wasn’t giving Steve a thing.

 

“You know that she’s sick, don’t you?”  Steve indicated the kitten’s eyes by circling his own with a pointed finger.

 

A grudging nod came only after a period of stubborn staring.

 

“And I can help her to get better.”

 

“You’ll take her away from me, and I’ll never see her again. That’s what happened to the others.”

Cold fingers traced a line across the back of Steve’s neck.

  
“What others?”

 

“Her sisters and brothers.  There were five of them when I found ‘em.  Midnight’s the only one left.  The man took the others.”  The boy paused, visibly fighting for control.  A tear slipped out, and he blinked furiously.  “I tried to stop him.”

 

What Steve really wanted was to take the kid for a hotdog or six and then maybe find him a place where he could get a shower, clean clothes, and a bed to sleep in.  What he had to do was find out who this man was. 

 

Sometimes Steve hated his job.

 

“What did the man look like?”

 

Another shrug.  “Tall.  Skinny.  He had a black suit and sunglasses, and he put the kittens into this box that looked like a cooler, only with lights and buttons on the front.”

 

A second cold hand joined the first, trailing down Steve’s back.  If the kid had seen one of the Agents of Darkness, he should be dead, not standing there talking to…

 

 _Damnit_.

 

Even as Steve realized the kid was bait for an Avenger-sized trap, he heard the snick and hum of a Destabilizer powering up.

 

He threw himself over the kid and the kitten as the first arc-white shot zapped over his head so close that he felt his hair stir.

 

“Nat, I need cover!” he shouted, hearing two of the Agents of Darkness moving closer.

 

Then a thwip-thud told him the Widow had done her usual efficient work, and he risked raising his head enough to look back down the alley, just in time to see Nat alight next to two would-be kid-and kitten-nappers.

 

“Bring the kid and the cat,” she said brusquely, murmuring something else into her comms.

 

Sitting across from the kid in the back of the Quinjet, watching him settle the kitten carefully in his scrawny arms, Steve hated himself.  Midnight was obviously the only thing the boy had in the whole world, and Steve was going to have to take her from him.

 

“What’s your name?” Steve asked at last, telling himself to get on with things.

 

“Tommy,” the kid said at first, and then, “Tom,” after straightening from his slouch.  He was staring straight ahead, as if undergoing interrogation, and Steve felt a tightness in his throat that had nothing to do with the shift in pressure as the Quinjet accelerated.

 

“Where you from, Tom?”

 

Nothing but a stiffening of the kid’s shoulders told Steve he’d asked the wrong question.

  
“Never mind.  I just wondered if we were from the same neighborhood.”

 

This earned Steve a scathing look.  “As if.  Don’t you live in that giant tower in Manhattan?”

 

Steve smiled at Tom’s obvious disdain.  “Yeah, _now_.  But I grew up in Brooklyn.”

 

Tom, as it turned out, was from Queens, but Steve didn’t hold it against him.

 

They spent the rest of the short flight in silence—tense on Tom’s part, weary on Steve’s.  He knew what would happen when they landed at the S.H.I.E.L.D. relay point, and he hated it—hated that they’d take Midnight from Tom, hated that they’d take Tom away and put him with Social Services, hated that Tom would forever associate him with betrayal.

 

“I’ll be right back,” he assured Tom, though the kid seemed perfectly content to sit there in stoic silence and ignore Steve altogether.

 

Up front, Nat said, “What’s up?”

 

“Do you think we could detour to the Tower?”

 

Nat gave him a searching look.  “That’s not protocol.”  It was an observation, delivered in her carefully neutral voice.  She wasn’t saying no.

 

Some of his weariness must have showed on his face, because before Steve could figure out how to put his feelings into words, Nat nodded once, decisively, and banked the Quinjet.

 

An immediate squawk came from the comms line.  Nat silenced it with the press of a button.

  
“We’re having some sort of mechanical trouble,” she told Steve.  “I’m going to put down at the Tower.”

 

“Thanks, Nat,” Steve said, squeezing her shoulder as he left the cockpit.

 

Tom hadn’t moved from his seat when Steve sat down next to him.  Midnight was a tiny ball of adorable alien infestation on the kid’s lap.

 

“We’re going to visit some friends of mine.  One of them is a doctor. He might be able to help Midnight.”

Tom gave him a long look before letting a little light of hope seep into his eyes. 

 

“Yeah?”

  
What kind of world put that kind of skepticism in a little boy’s voice, Steve wondered. 

 

“Yeah,” he answered, putting every ounce of conviction into his own. 

 

“Okay,” Tom said, relaxing a little.  An enormous yawn split his face.

 

Steve had to clear his throat to get something out of it.

 

Tony was waiting for them on the roof of the Tower.  As Steve escorted Tom and Midnight down the Quinjet’s ramp, Nat said, “Half an hour.”  Steve saw a tension around her mouth and eyes that told him all he needed to know:  Fury was on their trail, and it wouldn’t be long before someone came to see what the hell Steve was up to.

 

“Bringing home strays, I see,” Tony said, brushing a kiss across Steve’s cheek and sketching a wave to Nat, who gifted him with an eyeroll in return.

 

“Tony, I’d like you to meet Tom and his friend, Midnight.  I told Tom that maybe Bruce could take a look at his kitten.  She’s sick.”

 

Tony’s smile shifted, letting Steve know that he understood.  He stopped in front of Tom and offered him a hand to shake.  Tom took it solemnly, Midnight draped over his shoulder.

 

On their way down in the elevator, Tony said, “Welcome.  Mi tower es su tower.  Jarvis, let Doctor Banner know he has a customer.  And make sure there’s food in the guest suite, please.  You like pizza, Tom?”

 

Tom nodded, his expression a little dazed.  He was cradling Midnight to his chest and staring with wide eyes at the room that opened in front of him as the elevator doors opened.

 

Before he could say anything, Bruce appeared, honing in on Midnight with focus furrowed into his brow.

 

“This the patient?”

 

Tom nodded, obviously reluctant to surrender the kitten to Bruce.

 

“I see she’s got something wrong with her eyes.  How long has this been going on?”

 

Bruce’s easy manner and gentle voice seemed to disarm Tom, who held Midnight up for Bruce to shine a penlight in the kitten’s eyes.

 

“About two days.  The man came to take the others a day ago, but Midnight was with me.  We were hiding.”

 

Tom’s voice took on a note of shame, and Steve came up to put a hand on his shoulder.

 

“You did the right thing, Tom.  What would have happened to Midnight without you to protect her?”

 

“Can I take Midnight to my examination room to look her over?”  Bruce asked.  He had his hands at his sides and was slouching, making himself as unimposing as possible.

 

“O-okay.  You won’t hurt her, will you?”

 

“No,” Bruce assured him, cradling the kitten in the crook of his arm.

 

“While Doctor Banner looks Midnight over, why don’t we see about getting you a shower and a change of clothes.  I hear there’s pizza in the guest rooms.”

 

Tom nodded and followed Steve down the hall to the guest suite.  The shower was already running in the attached bathroom, and there were clothes laid out on the bed, the usual nondescript sweatpants and tee-shirts that Tony bought by the dozens to keep the team in clean clothes after particularly messy missions.

 

“The bathroom’s right through there.  There’s soap, shampoo, and towels already in there.  Help yourself to whatever you need.  There’s pizza and juice through the other door—”  Steve indicated the kitchenette attached to the suite—“but you should probably clean up first.”

 

“Okay,” Tom agreed, grabbing the clothes from the bed and heading for the bathroom.  He paused on the threshold and looked back at Steve.

  
“You aren’t going to stay in here, are you?”

 

The suspicion in the boy’s voice was like a punch in the windpipe, and Steve actually coughed, trying to clear the sudden pain.

 

“No, I won’t.  I’ll be in the main room, just down the hall the way we came.  Alright?”

 

“Okay,” Tom agreed, closing the door behind him.  Steve heard the lock snick decisively.

  
“Jarvis?”

 

“Yes, Captain Rogers.”

 

“Can you just keep an eye on him, make sure he’s okay?”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

As Steve could have predicted, Tony was waiting for him in the hall.  He was leaning casually against the wall opposite the guest suite door, but Steve saw the tension in his body and the lines at the corners of his mouth that betrayed his feelings.  Tony was worried.

 

“You know you can’t keep him, right?”

 

“Midnight’s female, Tony,” Steve answered, deliberately misunderstanding.

  
Tony bumped his shoulder meaningfully as he fell in beside Steve, moving back toward the common room.

 

Nat was standing by the far windows, keeping a discreet distance as they came in.  Tony sat on the enormous sofa and patted the seat next to him.  Steve obliged, feeling suddenly every one of his ninety-plus years.

 

Tony’s shoulder was a solid, warm wall against which Steve let himself lean, just for a moment.  Then he slumped in his seat, head falling back until he was staring at the ceiling far above.

 

“I get that the kid is homeless.  I get that he’s dirty and hungry and in need of someone to care about him.  I even get why you feel it needs to be you, Captain Marshmallow Heart.  But there’s something else going on here, right?”

 

Steve rocked his head to one side so that he could take in Tony’s profile.  His nose, those lips that could draw sounds out of Steve that made him blush just thinking about them, his strong jaw, the little muscle at the corner ticking now as he waited for Steve’s answer.

 

“You mean besides the fact that I’m going to have to tell the kid that his kitten is incurable and has to be put to sleep and that he himself is going to have to go into foster care?”

 

“Is that a bad thing?  You know S.H.I.E.L.D. will make sure he finds a good home, with a family that really wants him and will care for him.”

 

“Someone’s hurt him, Tony.  Hurt him like…”  Words abandoned Steve, but by his expression and helpless gesture, he must have gotten his point across because he saw the moment when Tony got it and then, with a burst of warm love in his chest, the moment when Tony resolved that he’d move heaven and earth to make sure the kid was safe.

 

“Okay.  Okay, then, look—Jarvis, get me Pepper.”

 

“Ms. Potts is in a board meeting and asked—”

 

“Do it, Jarvis.”

  
“Yes, sir.”

 

At Tony’s words, Steve had gotten up to pace to the windows, pausing beside Nat to say, “Can we hold out a little longer?”  Fury wasn’t known for his patience, and he would no doubt be emphatically pissed about their collective breach of protocol on this one—understandable, given that they could be looking at a worldwide alien epidemic.

 

Nat threw a look back at Tony, who could be heard having an animated discussion, presumably with Pepper Potts. 

 

She gave Steve a wry, long-suffering look and said, “Sure.  It seems the Quinjet has had a serious malfunction in the navigation system.”  From a finger Steve knew could be deadly all on its own dangled a nest of computer ganglia, obviously torn from its proper place with some violence, judging by the stripped copper wires and bits of singed insulator coating.

 

“You’re the best,” he said, daring to drop a kiss on her forehead.  She nodded, a grim smile curling up one corner of her mouth, and went back to surveying the skyline for potential threats.

 

Tony was off the phone and wearing the abstract expression he usually got when solving some complex equation related to thrust or mass or velocity or something.  Steve left him alone.

 

Bruce came in, took one look at Tony, and jerked his head toward another span of windows, where he told Steve, “I’m afraid I can’t save the kitten.”

 

Steve clenched his jaw and let a hard breath out through his nostrils.  He knew this had been coming, but that didn’t make it easier to hear. 

 

“The virus is too far advanced.  But I think I can retro-engineer a vaccine.  I’ll need Tony’s help to talk about airborne delivery systems, but there’s hope that we can stop the spread to other animal populations.”

 

“What about Tom?  Is he infected?”

 

Bruce shook his head, “From what I can tell, the virus has a delayed mutation process; it doesn’t actually become active in a human’s blood until a second pathogen is added.  It appears that whatever alien race has engineered the virus, they’re still in the experimental stage, which is a good thing.  Judging from the way the virus has co-opted the kitten’s frontal lobe, it’s intended to take over the host, not kill it outright.”

 

Great, just what they needed:  Mind-controlling alien invaders.

 

Steve nodded, relieved that Tom would be okay but also imagining Tom’s face when Steve told him that Midnight wasn’t coming back.

  
“Can Tom see Midnight before you…you know?”

 

Bruce nodded.  “Sure. I can bring her up in the carrier and let him say goodbye.”

 

“Thanks, Bruce.”

 

Tom appeared a few minutes later, smelling clean and swimming in his borrowed sweats.

 

He’d already read the room, apparently, because the tentative smile he’d been wearing when he’d come in had been replaced with a thin-lipped frown.

 

“Good news and bad,” Steve said, deciding that Tom deserved the straight truth, “Which do you want first?”

 

“Midnight’s not going to make it, is she?”

 

Tom’s voice had a funny, strangled quality that Steve recognized, but the kid didn’t shed a tear, just took in a long breath through his nose and nodded once, decisively, when Steve said, “Doctor Banner says she’s too far gone.  But he’ll be able to use what he’s learned about the virus to make a vaccine so that no one else—no other pets or people—get it.”

 

Steve gave the kid a few minutes to process this, leaving him alone near the window where he’d had his hasty conference with Bruce.

 

“What’s the good news?” he heard at last, turning to see that Tom had his shoulders squared and chin up.  His hands weren’t quite in fists, but Steve could see him fighting the urge to curl them.  He didn’t blame Tom for not trusting him, but it still broke his heart.

 

“Tony thinks that we can find you a place to stay where you won’t have to worry about anyone…bothering…you.”

 

“I’m not going to some stinking foster home.”  Tom didn’t shout the words but spoke them with the deep conviction of someone who knew his mind and meant to live and die by it.  Steve reflected that in a few years, the kid would be a force that even Fury would have to reckon with.

 

“It’s not a foster home,” Tony put in, sidling over from where he’d been eavesdropping shamelessly.

 

Tom gave him a look of such deep skepticism that Steve had to swallow a laugh, and he heard a distinct snort from the direction of the windows, where Nat was still waiting patiently, watching the drama unfold behind her in their reflections in the glass.

 

“My friend Pepper has a contact upstate who is looking for someone to help her take care of the animals on her sanctuary farm.  Pepper said you sounded like the perfect person for the job, even if you are a city kid.  If you’re willing to give it a try, we can fly up there this afternoon to check it out.  What do you think?”

 

Tom looked at Tony for a long time, as if he could figure out Tony’s true intentions by staring at him.  Of course, if that method had worked, Steve would have had an easier life as team leader.  Eventually, Tom turned his attention to Steve. 

 

“What do you think?”  He wasn’t asking as if Steve was some big expert.  His tone said that he was going to weigh Steve’s opinion just about equally to Tony’s, even though he’d known Steve a little longer and Steve had saved him from the Agents of Darkness.

 

Steve supposed that when you grew up like Tom had, everyone was about the same where trust was concerned.  Nobody deserved it for very long, if at all.  Everyone disappointed you eventually.

 

“I think it’s worth a look.  I can go with you, if you’d like.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Tom said, and then, after a quick, sidelong look at Nat, who was giving him a very pointed look of her own, he added a hasty, “Thanks.”

 

“Don’t thank me until you’ve seen the place, kid,” Tony answered. “Farm work is hard.”

 

Things settled for the time being, Tom went off to play video games in the guest suite, and Nat said she was going to head back to the Quinjet and “do some routine maintenance.”

 

Steve stopped her on the way out to say, “Thank you,” and Nat rolled her eyes at his sincerity and left without another word.

 

Steve couldn’t sit still, despite Tony’s inviting sprawl on the sofa.

  
“You’ve checked this woman out, right?  And her staff?”

 

“Jarvis is running a complete background check on everyone ever associated with the Plattsburgh Farm Sanctuary.  He’ll flag anything suspicious.  But you know Pepper.  Would she give me a bum tip?”

 

Steve felt a little of his tension leaving him, and he finally gave in enough to sit next to Tony, who was surprisingly forward, given their guest, pulling Steve half onto his lap to suck on the hollow of his throat and then engage him in a deep, intensely suggestive kiss.  Steve broke away to murmur, “I know what you’re trying to do,” into the damp skin of Tony’s neck.

  
Steve could hear Tony’s smile in his response, “Is it working?”

 

Given the blood rushing from his brain and the fact that Steve was about to forget where they were, never mind that they had a kid in the house, Steve guessed that it was.

 

Tony’s hand was hot against the skin of his back as it slid up under his shirt, his lips soft but demanding, his tongue wicked, and Steve was starting to think they were going to have to delay their trip for an hour or two when Jarvis chimed somehow disapprovingly, in that inimitable butlering fashion, and they sprang apart, mussed up, beard-burned, and flushed.

 

Tom appeared seconds later, eyes sweeping across them.  He shook his head and made a disgusted face and then said, “You have any more food?”

 

“Sure, kid,” Tony said, rising easily, as if he hadn’t just been taking extremely inappropriate liberties with America’s Boy Scout where any kid could wander in and catch them.

 

For his part, Steve had to turn away, adjust himself, and imagine how Nat’s conversation with Fury was going before he was in any fit state to join Tony and Tom in the kitchen.

 

As Tom was finishing his second piece of pie, Bruce came to the door with a cat carrier in his hand.  Tom slid wordlessly off of his stool, last of his pie untouched, and followed Bruce into the other room.

 

Steve started to go with them, but Tony put a hand on his arm.  “Let the kid do this one without you.  He’s trying like hell to impress you, which you probably failed to notice, Oh Humble One.  If you’re there, he won’t get a chance to really let go.”

 

After all this time together, Steve shouldn’t have been surprised by the depth of Tony’s compassion and understanding, but it knocked his breath out of him anyway, and then he got breathless in a whole other way when he took Tony’s face between his hands and kissed him hard and long.

 

A throat-clearing from the doorway alerted them to Bruce’s presence, and then Tom appeared, rolling his eyes at their expressions, which didn’t do much to hide what they’d just been up to.

 

“We going?” Tom asked brusquely, and Tony said, “Yeah, sure.”

 

Bruce nodded and disappeared, presumably to return Midnight to the laboratory.

 

Sobered by the reminder that Midnight wasn’t going with them—indeed, she wasn’t leaving the Tower ever again—Steve rode the lift to the helipad with one careful eye on Tom, who was dry-eyed but solemn as they ascended.

 

Some of Tom’s solemnity disappeared at the sight of Tony’s sleek helicopter, already humming to life, and he even offered Hap a tentative grin when the chauffeur-cum-pilot took his helmet off long enough to waggle his eyebrows at the kid.

 

Tom sat up front with his own headset, and he’d managed a full-blown smile by the time they’d gained cruising altitude.

 

Soon, Manhattan was a grey blur behind them, a carpet of shifting greens laid out below as they flew toward Plattsburgh, where Pepper’s friend, Margery, had a sanctuary for abused and abandoned farm animals.

 

There they were greeted by a plump, smiling woman with salt-and-pepper hair, overalls, muck boots, and a big, warm smile.

 

“Welcome to paradise,” she joked, leading them past a well-kept pig sty and into the concrete center aisle of a cow barn.  The place smelled of sweet grain, hay, and cow poop in about equal measures.  A lanky teen with a mop of brown hair held back by a bandanna gave them a half-wave as he pushed a broom-full of manure toward a waiting wheelbarrow.

 

“We’re one hundred percent manual labor here.  No milking machines, no fancy manure chutes—they use too much water.  We’re as green as we can get, and we rely on charitable donations, volunteer labor, and love,” Margery explained, taking them to the far end of the barn, where a barred stall door revealed a shaky-legged black-and-white calf attempting to suckle a nudging heifer.

 

A sound overhead drew Steve’s eyes away from Tom’s face, which was suffused with a glow of excitement. Descending the hay loft ladder was a calico cat followed by three kittens.  Steve held his breath as the little creatures made their awkward way down the ladder.

 

Once on the floor, the mother made a beeline for the door, and two of the kittens trotted after her.  The third, however, stopped, obviously startled by the presence of so many strangers in its path.  It mewed piteously, and Tom approached it, dropping slowly to his knees in front of it.  It took a half-hop backwards and then stood its ground, sniffing Tom’s offered hand cautiously before rubbing its little head against his finger and starting to purr.

 

Tom looked up at Steve, his eyes shining, cheeks flushed at the strength of the feelings he was obviously trying to hide.

 

Steve had to keep his own feelings in check, afraid that if he said anything, his voice would come out high and cracked.  He swallowed hard and said, “What do you think, Tom?  You want to try it here?”

 

“Yeah,” Tom said.  Then, “I mean, yes, I’d like that.  Thank you.  Thank you, too, Tony.”

 

Tony shrugged.  “No problem, kid.”

 

Steve and Tony left Tom there to get further acquainted with Margery and to continue the tour of the facility, which included goat and sheep paddocks, a duck pond, three chicken coops, and a horse pasture that stretched up the breadth of a long, roundtop hill, which they climbed to the top, stopping there to take in the mountains surrounding them and the fields rolling away from them on every side.

 

“Pretty out here,” Tony remarked.  He had a piece of wild hay in his mouth, and the seed end bobbed as he spoke.

 

“Definitely,” Steve answered, eyes for Tony alone.  Tony’s smile, which had been fairly innocent, grew knowing as he took in Steve’s own.

 

“Thank you,” Steve said, lowering his lips to Tony’s to plant a chaste kiss there.

 

Tony shrugged as if a little self-conscious at being the absolute center of Steve’s intense attention.

 

“It was really Pepper’s doing.  You know how she is, always—”

 

“Stop,” Steve commanded, and for a change, Tony did as he was told.

 

“Things were tough growing up, but I always had a home to go to, and I had Bucky to watch my back.  I knew kids like Tom, though, whose fathers beat them or who had been forced out of their homes for some other reason.  They always had this look on their faces—like they were being hunted.  Like they couldn’t ever get a full night’s sleep.  I’d save food for them when I could and sneak them my old, holey socks when they couldn’t be darned anymore.  A lot of people on the block looked out for those kids, but it was never enough.  Even as a kid I knew that.”

 

Steve shrugged, shook his head, looked over Tony’s head, not seeing the mountains clothed in green splendor or the sky, piercing blue and watercolored with wispy clouds, but the faces of children like him who hadn’t survived to become the men and women they might have been had the world cared more for the lost and the suffering.

 

“Hey,” Tony’s hand was warm and insistent on Steve’s neck, drawing his head down.  “I love you,” he murmured against Steve’s lips.  “You’re a good man, Steve Rogers.  You’re giving this kid a real chance here.”

 

Steve accepted Tony’s words and his kiss, thanked him wordlessly and thoroughly in his own way, and then let him take him by the hand and lead him down the hill and back to the sanctuary, where Tom was playing with two rambunctious goat kids and Margery was filling a trough with a hose.

 

When he saw them coming back, Tom climbed out of the paddock, but he was diverted from approaching them when he noticed Margery’s task.  He said, “I can do that if you show me how to shut off the hose when the trough’s full.”

 

“Take care, Tom,” Steve called, understanding that the kid didn’t want anymore farewells.  One goodbye had been painful enough for him.  And besides, it wasn’t like Steve wouldn’t be back to visit.

 

After exchanging contact information with Margery and negotiating a generous monthly stipend for Tom’s expenses and general upkeep of the farm, they departed, Tom’s voice calling after them, clear and strong, “I’ll see you around!”

 

Steve walked backwards for a few steps to wave at Tom, and then he and Tony were aboard the helicopter, and it was revving up, and then the farm was reduced to a streak of green-gold behind them.

 

“He’ll be okay,” Tony said into his headset, covering Steve’s hand with his own, the twin weight comforting against Steve’s thigh.

 

“I know,” Steve answered, turning his hand over in Tony’s grip to interlace their fingers.

 

They rode like that until the gleaming Tower grew from a glint of blinding light to a beacon of hope in the near distance.  It felt like coming home to Steve in a way it hadn’t before, as if that kid he’d been on the sometimes mean streets of Brooklyn could finally recognize his new place in the world, above the streets but not apart from them, just in a better position to watch over all the children of the city and the world.

 

“Honey,” Tony called to Jarvis as they entered the roof elevator,  “We’re home.”

 

“Yes, we are,” Steve agreed.


End file.
